Re: Stacks
by and.elphaba
Summary: 10 years ago, Noah Puckerman left Lima, Ohio for New York City in an attempt to find himself. 10 years ago, he also lost the love of his life. What now? Rating T but maybe M later on
1. and so it is

The trees were dancing manically as the howling wind threatened them with a premature death. Noah Puckerman silently cursed as he pulled his beanie further over his ears that were starting to freeze, as was his nose. He sniffled and hastily shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket silently berating himself for not grabbing his gloves when he left home.

Rounding the corner toward the large decorated wooden door, he peeked into the window while pulling out a bunch of keys from his front jean pocket. He tried desperately to turn the lock but his fingers were numb with the cold. _Open! Damnit. _Finally, he felt the click and pushing down the handle, he entered the place he called his second home.

Walking into the dark room, expertly avoiding the tables and chairs that littered place, he flipped the switch. Lights slowly began to flood the room as warmth started to fill the place.

"Thank God Lee got someone to fix the heater", he mumbled rubbing his hands together willing them thaw. No one had expected this sudden bout of cold weather.

He picked up the mail that lay on the floor and dropped it onto the bar top as he continued to regain feeling in his fingers. Going through the mail, he began picking out the bills from the vast amount of junk. Being an up-and-coming "it" place in New York, "Stacks" had been inundated by a vast amount of fliers in the hope that Noah would put it up on the brick wall designated for it. When he had first started "Stacks" he knew that he had to have a place for young, struggling musicians and businesses to advertise, after all he knew what it was like to be in their position, helpless, afraid and unsure of where to begin. Venues were hard to come by and he knew he had to do something about it.

It was then in the middle of the pile, at the corner of his eye, he saw it. It looked innocent enough, a crumbled flier for "West Side Story", and her name emblazoned across it, in big white, bold font. _Trust her to know how get ones attention._ Sighing, he walked over the wall and tacked the fliers for customers to check out later on.

The papers had been flooded with news of her lately, of how she was making a comeback after an unprecedented sabbatical almost a year back. _ She's out of your life, Puckerman. I think she made it clear enough when she ditched you._

When he left his hometown of Lima, Ohio for New York City almost 10 years ago he had on his back a change of clothes, his guitar case in his hand and nursing a broken heart. Up till that fateful day 2 years ago, he bartended at night and busked in the day. Sometimes the odd gig would present itself and he'd have a sizable paycheck to live on for a while. That was till he got a phone call, _the_ phone call that would change his life forever. His father, his good for nothing father who had walked out on his mother too long ago had died. While he may have remarried he and his wife, Anne Marie never had any kids, making him the sole heir his assets. A lot, of "assets."

He remembered Anne Marie's voice as she recounted his father's half-assed excuse of "making up for the absence" in his life. The money, she said had already been wired to his account.

Then, he stumbled onto Louis', a small family owned diner and bar that was "For Sale". He walked in, and after answering a series of questions; he put a down payment on the place and quit his job. The walls were stripped, the place refurnished and renamed "Stacks", a place where one could find reprieve away from work, from home, from the heartache they might feel.

Walking through the place now, he took a seat facing the little stage that had been constructed where his Guitar, sat majestically in it's holder at it's place next to the bar stool.

Walking toward the stage, he picked up the rosewood Gibson. Running his fingers across the the indent at the back where his name had been engraved and stamped in gold leaf, he smiled.

He stared into space for a moment enjoying the solitude before picking at the strings, a familiar melody, one that had been haunting him for awhile now and he had finally put words to two nights before. The lyrics had come to him fairly quickly as he had sat playing in his studio apartment, almost like it wrote itself.

"_This my excavation and today is Kumran  
Everything that happens is from now on  
This is pouring rain  
This is paralyzed_

I keep throwing it down two-hundred at a time  
It's hard to find it when you knew it  
When your money's gone  
And you're drunk as hell"

He smiled at the memory of it and lost himself in the song as a familiar voice seemed to ring out in harmony to his song.

_  
"On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load  
In the back and the racks and the stacks are your load  
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load"_

"I've twisting to the sun I needed to replace  
The fountain in the front yard is rusted out  
All my love was down  
In a frozen ground

There's a black crow sitting across from me; his wiry legs are crossed  
And he's dangling my keys he even fakes a toss  
Whatever could it be  
That has brought me to this loss?

On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load  
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load  
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load

This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization  
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away  
Your love will be  
Safe with me"

His eyes stayed closed as the final note rang out through the empty room as he savoured the moment. Her voice, her harmony felt so real, like she was next to him, breathing the same air as him, singing his song.

A sudden crash broke him out of his reverie. Jerking his head up, he caught the sheepish look on Lee's face.

"Sorry Boss, tripped over the chair… that was really good though, new song?" Puck smiled and placed his guitar back on its stand .

"It's okay dude, thanks for getting the heater fixed by the way. Has the… Shit."  
It was 4.30, where had that hour gone?

Quickly updating Lee and Lucas, who too had arrived, on what to do they went their separate ways in prepping the place for the early evening crowd that was expected to arrive soon.

Going out the backdoor, he lit a cigarette, the early crowd had started to arrive and was filling the tiny bar. The boys could handle it though, he needed a break. Leaning against the wall of the alley he tilted his head back and took a nice long drag. The cold that had earlier been piercingly cold had now become a comfort, a reminder that times had changed and he was where he was now.

Throwing the last of the cigarette on the floor, he stepped on it to put it out and made his way toward the door.

"Puckerman." Turning back alarmed, he stared. For almost a second, he thought he was dreaming. In the distance was a vision in white. She stood with poise, with an unmistakable confidence that he had fallen in love with so very long ago.

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them again.

"Noah." She said again and he could almost feel her smile through her voice.

She was real.

His chest tightened and a lump began to form in his throat.

He tried to, but he couldn't.

10 years later and she still took his breath away.

**Song: Re: Stacks by Bon Iver.**


	2. rush of blood to the head

**Authors Note: Holy shit guys. I really did not expect the response! THANK YOU SO**** MUCH. I'm really glad that you're liking this. Please R&R and tell me what you loved/hated, how your feel about the chapters/characters and what you think is gonna happen next. I like a little challenge. I know my tenses can get a little erratic at times. I'm working on it! I'm not really sure how I feel about writing from 3****rd**** person's POV too, so a major overhaul might be in the near future. What do you think? **

**Also, HOLY FREAKING GLEE SPOILERS. I don't know how I feel D:**

Puck bustled around the tiny room slightly more composed than he was back then. As he served his last drink of the hour he took a seat at the end of the bar and surveyed the place. Full house – correction - filled beyond capacity. Couples were leaning towards each other in hushed whispers with their drinks in hand while leaned up against whatever little space they could get, frat buddies meeting up in office wear were laughing over the nostalgia of a memory of old school days with jugs of beer on the table. His head throbbed slightly and he put his head into his hands finally savouring the moment of repose as he took a moment to catch his breath and recount what had happened earlier.

_Despite the tired worn lines that had fo__rmed at the corner of her eyes seemingly melded into her skin and the pallor that had since taken over the effervescent glow she had back then, he could have sworn she had gotten more beautiful. Her big brown eyes were wide, her jaw was slack and her shoulders were moving up and down rhythmically, as though she had as much of a problem catching her breath as he did. _

_His chest hurt and it felt as if his heart was filling with an overwhelming, piercing emotion like Pandora's box waiting to spill over everything he'd been keeping inside for 10 long years. _

"_Berry?" he whispered._

_The space between them felt thick and everything felt, sounded and even tasted muffled, muted, like he had been thrust into a higher altitude or plunged into water on a deep-sea dive, but really it was just the deluge of emotions he had buried for too long._

"_Lowell." _

"_Sorry?"_

"_It's Lowell now. Rachel Lowell."_

_That__ was one thing that wasn't in the papers. God, the others were going to flip when they found out he'd been poring over the papers scoring every section for something about her again. The day Mike and Matt walked into the bar at lunchtime looking for a free meal only to find him on her Wikipedia page, they had sat him down and proceeded to give even the hardest drinker a run for his money. The boys stumbled back to Wall Street hours later unable to tell 10 from 2 and "Stacks" was left almost completely out of commission._

_H__e gritted his teeth. _

"_Did you come here just to tell me that." You're such a fool Puckerman._

"_No. I..." she began. __"Why did you come, Rachel?" he swallowed, hard._

"_I don't know." _

_He stared at her, weird shooting pangs in his chest, like a rubber band on an elasticity test._

"_Maybe I shouldn't have," Rachel said turning to leave. Unbeknownst to him, he reached out and grabbing her wrist, pulled her back. _

_She looked up bewildered with tears welling up in her eyes as the words tumbled out from Puck's mouth._

"_No, don't go. Stay. Please. Just a while." Tears were now rolling down her face, like a broken pearl necklace flowing freely. Before he could stop himself he gently swiped a wayward tear with his thumb as she nodded._

_He could have sworn it was as if his heart that had earlier swelled up to vast proportions, like a balloon stretched beyond its capacity had finally burst from the pressure. Noah Puckerman was not sure he had a heart anymore._

So here he was hours later with a semblance of his heart back, apparently it wasn't gone just smashed to smithereens. His eyes wandered to where she was sat perched on a high chair at a tall cocktail table. Her glass of red wine barely touched. Dressed in a white long-sleeved lace mini-dress with a hem that flirted dangerously with the top of her thigh and killer black suede pumps, she really was quite a sight. He smiled. Some things just haven't changed. Only Rachel Berry would wear such a tiny piece of cloth in this weather. Oh wait, Rachel Lowell.

He sighed.

_God, she__'s so beautiful_. Her hair - now short, teased her collarbone, it had always been his favourite feature.

Almost like a sign, the clock behind the bar struck. 9pm. Showtime.

Taking toward the stage, he took a deep breath and picked up his guitar and stood silently near the edge of the stage, just behind the microphone as the crowd hushed as if he had given a cue to do so. The lights in the room dimmed except for the spotlight on him that got considerably brighter.

Stepping toward the microphone, he felt his lips graze the perforated weave of metal. He closed his eyes as his hand moved to caress the delicate neck of the Gibson, a gift from her 11 years ago.

The notes came even before he realised he had started playing. He loved these moments, when _he _was_ his music_ and _his music_ was _he_. The lyrics came out in the same instance, uncontrolled, unhesitant. Real.

"_Lightning strike  
inside my chest to keep me up at night  
Dream of ways  
to make you understand my pain"_

It was as if the lump in his throat that had been persistently forming then ebbing had finally started to completely disappear.

_"Clouds of sulfur in the air  
Bombs are falling everywhere  
It's heartbreak warfare_

Once you want it to begin  
No one really ever wins  
In heartbreak warfare

_If you want more love why don't you say so  
If you want more love why don't you say so_

Drop his name  
Push it in and twist the knife again  
Watch my face  
As I pretend to feel no pain"

The pangs were back harder, more purposeful, hard painful pounding on his chest.__

"Clouds of sulfur in the air  
Bombs are falling everywhere  
It's heartbreak warfare

Once you want it to begin  
No one really ever wins  
In heartbreak warfare

If you want more love Why don't you say so  
If you want more love Why don't you say so  
Just say so

How come the only way to know how high you get me  
Is to see how far I fall  
God only knows how much I'd love you if you'd let me  
But I can't break free at all

_It's heart, heartbreak_

I don't care if we don't sleep at all tonight  
Let's just just fix this whole thing now  
I swear to God we're going to get it right  
If you put your weapon down

Red wine and ambien  
you're talking shit again.  
It's heartbreak warfare

Good to know it's all a game  
Disappointment has a name:  
it's heartbreak warfare"

He hadn't even realized he had had his eyes closed for the entire song. When they finally opened they instantly found hers and though the whole room were in a rambunctiously ruckus, clapping and screaming in approval, he heard nothing but the sound of his blood rushing through his veins and the sound of his heart beating, like a bass drum in his ears.

He lost her once, he wasn't going to again.

**Song: Heartbreak Warfare by John Mayer. If you haven't heard it, YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY MISSING OUT. His new album's going to be killer.**


	3. some place will be serving after hours

**Au****thors Note: It's been a while, majormajor writers block. I hope I actually finish this story! Anyway, I wish I owned these characters, but nope they belong to the genius that is Ryan Murphy and Fox. Please R&R!**

The boys talked animatedly at lunch the next day and he laughed when the time came for it but really - it was like Puck wasn't there. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that she was back. On one hand, he was glad that they would finally have a chance to wrap things up nicely (though did he really want to?) but on the other, he was angry that she had practically dangled her marriage in his face.

The sleek silver contraption on the table vibrated, he picked it up and punched in his reply:

**_Will u b bak 4 e partie?_**

Slamming the phone down he sighed only to realize that he wasn't alone. Lee and Lucas peered at him concerned just as the doors burst open and in stalked Ebony and Ivory.

"Let's get cracking."

Before long, the place was transformed. From the tiny otherwise plainly decorated bar it usually was Stacks now resembled something out of a scene in a horror movie. Strips of black chiffon were delicately sewn together and hung from the ceiling to resemble a huge cob web descending on everyone, chairs were made to look like tombstones and the stage was now a grand mausoleum. Mercedes and Kurt had barked orders at them all afternoon stepping on some toes along the way, but what was to be expected of world-class designers.

The two had debut their line at New York Fashion Week 2 years ago to roaring success, and just about _everyone _from Long Island to Dallas were desperately beating their doors down now just trying to fit in a time to throw out ideas over a spa session and homemade treats. The trick though, was really a killer Lychee Martini, or two. M and K were now standing with their arms akimbo, back-to-back in matching leather get ups as they posed for the cameras.

The door creaked and in walked Artie and Tina hand in hand. It seemed like almost yesterday when Artie had gotten that life altering surgery. People at first scoffed at the idea of Artie doing it, after all, the surgery was experimental and incredibly dangerous. Tina was livid when she had found out. The smell of burnt rubber on the tarmac as Rachel threw the door open for Tina back then still burnt his nostrils at the thought of it. Her car was parked slightly off the driveway and on Rachel's Daddy's prized daisies, its headlights blinking fervently as Tina collapsed in Rachel's arms sobbing uncontrollably. She soon learnt to accept Arthur's decision; after all, his happiness was all that mattered. It wasn't till years later, however, that Artie was finally approved for it. Recovery was long drawn and arduous but on the day he got on his feet, he fell back down on his knees and asked Tina to marry him. She said yes.

His walk now was between a shuffle and totter, definitely not perfect - a dull limp. When it was finally time for Artie to return to school, it was almost a straight route to choose and he was now widely successful as an Orthopaedic Surgeon.

Tina herself was a speech therapist. After getting over her stutter that plagued her childhood she had wanted nothing more than to help others like her.

Though Puck never said it, he never felt more proud or inspired by anyone else. The couple were walking living proof that it _is_ possible to get over the hardest of adversities. Besides that, Puck thought the journey that brought them together, was sickeningly _cute_. Which really was quite a peculiar thought; Noah Puckerman _didn't even do cute_. But if anyone saw them stood there, years later holding hands as Salt and Pepper Shakers, well, they too would probably be reduced to a puddle of goo.

Already seated in the VIP section were Frankenstein and dead Marilyn Monroe – Finn and Quinn. After the dreadful incident, the tragedy that today still broke his heart, things had turned so ugly. Quinn had lost her baby, _their_ baby. Finn had found out of course and it was like World War III had started. Things were ugly for a while and it took alot before Finn had finally forgiven his best friend. Their friendship had grown to great strength though and on the day Puck had stumbled home after finding that Rachel had gone; Finn was already sat on Puck's doorstep waiting to comfort his friend.

Standing about a meter away from where Puck was now seated at a corner, was Mike with Brit on his arm – the two had come as their high school selves, him in his football uniform and her in her Cheerios. Puck chuckled to himself; no one had seen it coming. While back in school the two had been best friends, both Mike and Brit had quite a reputation for both being serial "Date-and-Dump"ers. It wasn't until the wedding invites arrived in their mailboxes, that everyone found out they had actually been together all this time! Puck watched as Mike looked at Brit adoringly as she talked animatedly to Matt and his wife, Louise who had joined the growing circle of friends. He sighed just as Mike looked up and sent a concerned, knowing smile his way.

Whispering into Brit's ear and kissing her cheek lightly, he loosened his hold on her waist and wandered over to where Puck was sat alone taking in the sight of his friends.

"I hear she's back." Mike said in a low voice, taking a seat next to him.

"She is."

"Is she coming tonight then?"

"I hope so." Mike squeezed Puck's shoulder reassuringly as he took a sip of his Gin and Tonic.

Rachel had practically hightailed out of the bar after his set the other night, but not before leaving her number with Lee at the bar. A few tense text messages and failed meet-ups, largely due to her rehearsals, later she had agreed to come to the party.

Puck and Mike sat in silence just as a loud accented voice boomed behind them

"Are you guys gonna sit here all night or are we gonna have a party?" Mercedes questioned playfully with a huge smile on her face. The boys looked at it each other, laughed and followed her back to where the rest of the Gleeks were seated in the VIP section.

Too many Sour Apple Shooters later, most of the group was sloshed. Though Santana had arrived an hour late fresh off a 12-hour photoshoot for Vogue she was probably the worse of the lot, her face buried deep in Brittany's lap and she was mumbling about "doing Hos in Mexico" or something.

It was great to finally have everyone back together again; it really had been too long since they got together like this. It seemed like almost yesterday that everyone went their separate ways to chase their dreams or find themselves.

"Do you remember what happened Halloween our junior year?" Finn slurred choking back fits of laughter and everyone nodded excitedly.

Puck held his breath and looked up alarmed.

_How did they know about that?_

"The girls were completely smashed and dancing on that…thing, at Thao Nguyen's to Can't Fight The Moonlight! Mah Boy kurt was absolutely killing it!" Mercedes shouted as she jumped up to demonstrate only to bump heads with Kurt.

Oh _right._

_That thing._

Smiling coyly to himself, he remembered how even in his inebriated state he had copped a look up Rachel's skirt as she danced on the bar top at one of Thao's millionaire father's homes.

He watched as everyone fell around in peals of laughter (he was fairly certain Finn was crying. "No! There's something in my eye!") and recalled what had happened on All Hallows Eve their Junior year.


	4. Take a no wait while I tease you sane

AN: It's been awhile! Minor changes have been made to the previous chapters so the story flows better, do have a look-see before commencing with this! I'm sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter out. In all honesty, I kind of wrote myself into a wall and tried changing this to Puck's POV several times, to no avail, after writing a Puckleberry One-shot called "Feet and Traffic Lights" (check it out!) awhile back where I accidentally fell in love with that Noah. Do excuse me if everything's slightly off (especially academic years etc) for the purposes of this story, everyone is in the same year of high school and Babygate and Puckleberry have not happened. yet. OKAY, ENJOY!

Halloween, Junior Year  
The ride to the party was far from pleasant to say the least.  
Having spent the most part of the morning cleaning the Robinson's pool and the afternoon with the Missus (Mrs Robinson was by far the freakiest of his cougars, "What about _here_, Boy?" "Tie me up _here_, Boy!" "Over _here_, Boy!") Puck was well spent.

When he stumbled into the house later that evening and met his Mother's poisonous glare and monotonous voice riddled with subliminal infliction telling him that the "satan girl" was upstairs, he begrudgingly trudged towards his room and found Santana sitting on the bed in a bright red leather bustier dress, fishnet stockings, 4 inch stilettos and a scowl to top it all off. He had completely forgotten about their pre-party plans that involved...well with Santana it was pretty much one thing. Needless to say, the devil was irate.

The tension filled ride to Thao's that had Santana sitting with a mad pout on her face was Santana's way of telling him he wasn't going to be getting any tonight. At least not from her.

From where he stood now leaning against the wall in Thao Nguyen's monstrosity of a home, he watched as the She-devil practically wrapped her long tanned legs around the waist of the unsuspecting freshman she had sidled up to earlier. Puck's grip tightened around the highlighter yellow plastic cup as Santana threw him a hatred filled look. He downs the rest of his beer, and winces. It's tepid.

He turns back toward the keg for a refill and stops in his cowboy boot clad tracks staring, his cowboy hat falling down and covering his eyes at the abrupt stop of motion.

Pulling it back up, almost like a second reveal, he sees it, them. Legs, really_really_ nice legs. Tiny but, _nice. _

His gaze travels up the lean body and finds the owner of said legs. He smirks and not knowing what comes over him (legs maybe?) he walks over.

"Sup, Berry." She cocks an eyebrow toward him in wary silence at the sudden acknowledgement. The boy had after all been giving her daily slushie bath for as long as she remembered.  
"What are you drinking, Legs?" He looks down and watches as she pours something into her cup and places the bottle back in her tiny bag.  
"Citrus sinensis_._" She says matter-of-factly, taking a sip from her cup as an incredulous look spreads across Puck's face.  
"Bad ass, Berry! Give me some!" Before Rachel can react, Puck had grabbed the plastic cup, putting it to his mouth had taken a huge gulp - only to sputter it all out as soon as recognition registered.  
"What the fuck, Berry. You brought _orange juice_ to a party? You really are a freak aren't you?" Rachel "hmmphs", grabbing a new cup and throws as dark of a glare as she can before stomping away from the offensive specimen of a high school male chauvinist pig.

_What a stupid fucking party._ Puck rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle of vodka and adds some to the rest of the orange juice in the cup. He looks up and his eyes meet that of the busty red head he'd been making crude remarks to since he _accidentally _followed her to the girls bathroom (she totally begged him to follow her with her eyes) last week and _accidentally_ went into the same stall as her where they lips _accidentally_ found each other (since lips were already on lips why not furiously make out, right?). He smirked_ Maybe tonight isn't so bad after all. _

Or maybe not, his cheek was smarting from where the busty red head (Dulcie? Lucy? Lusia?)'s hand had connected with his flesh after he had accidentally unconsciously said "Yes, Mrs Robinson!" to some obscure freaky request she made. How was he to know Lucille (??) was THAT Robinson?

He rubbed his cheek as he rounded the corner toward the bar in the main hall only to be inundated by the loud music and dozens of couples gyrating and making out. It was then over the music he heard it.

"Rachellll! Raaaaeecheeel! RAACHEL!"  
_Holy shit_. The chick was fucking shitfaced drunk and standing on the bar top with Kurt who was making her do some crazy ass dance. "Puck! HEY PUCK!" alarmed, he looked up to see a strange entanglement of the usualgleeks with Matt, Mike, Finn, Quinn, Brittany and even a boy-free Santana.

Astonished at the sight before him, he looks at Matt for an answer and his teammate gestures toward an empty bottle of Vodka and winks. _Trust Matt to spike her Citranum...whatever._

Walking over with a huge smirk on his face, he sits himself in the only available space left that _just happened_ to be next to the bar. Taking the plastic cup Mike passes him, he takes a gulp and looks up at the girl with the tiny skirt dancing to the music on the bar top with Kurt. Mercedes was stood at the side howling with excited drunk laughter while twirling Tina around. Artie himself was dancing expertly in his chair doing some elaborate wheelies along with the beat. Strange as it was, his gaze kept falling back on Berry in her tiny Alice costume dancing to _Can't Fight the Moonlight_. He'd never seen her like that she was mostly an uptight, self-indulgent, self-righteous preachy diva - Drunk!Berry it was almost refreshing.

Shifting his position, he moves his gaze up and pretends not to be looking_ What is it, Berry? _he mentally goes through an extensive list of possibilities as her skirt flounces and grazes the top of her thigh.  
_Black and pink lace? Nice_. It was these moments, he was glad to have gone full blown commando.

The next thing he remembers is getting pulled to the side where he the GleeJocks down tequila shots til the wee hours of the morning as the Gleeks continued dancing. Everyone was getting drunk fast but Puck was glad though, because if everyone was not, they would have noticed him staring and practically mentally stripping Rachel Berry.

--  
It was a piercing scream that had him sitting up in bed the next morning, his eyes were immediately assaulted by the bright light streaming in from the nylon curtains. He blinked willing his eyes to focus at whoever was screaming. It was a brown haired, very naked.... Rachel Berry flailing her arms rapidly using words that often hurt his brain at 1 in the afternoon let alone at 8 in the morning.

He stared at her, blinking, trying to find some semblance of a clue as to what happened after the 3rd bottle of Jose Cuervo when she stops abruptly staring in anger and wonderment as to why Puck hadn't so much as squeaked out some offensive remark about how much _he was a stud_ and that she_ probably had a good time_ but was instead looked at her in shocked silence.

Almost as if something clicked into place in her head. she looks down and screams, grabbing the first thing she sees that happens to be the duvet covering a very_very_ naked Noah Puckerman. She screams again, in shock, fear and the searing pain of having the image burned into her brain forever. Pulling the duvet to her face she runs into the en suite bathroom as Puck stared dumbfounded after her in a mix of shock, exasperation and wonder.

Between the realisation that he just had drunken sex with Rachel Berry and what he just saw, which he was fairly certain no one else in the world knew, he didn't know what to think.  
You see, just below her ample, very full left breast on her ribcage was a tattoo. A real, needle to flesh, ink under skin tattoo.

Maybe the sweet and innocent (scoff) Virgin Berry, wasn't very.

In fact, she was pretty Bad ass.


End file.
